After agreeing to accompany Qin Mo in the excavation of the Standard Template Construct (STC), Magos Vick was promptly escorted from the subterranean laboratory and ushered onto a waiting transport shuttle.
Inside the gunmetal-gray hold, three Thunderborns were already seated, motionless in their harnesses, awaiting deployment.
Vick took a place on one of the benches, but due to the extensive mechanization and the bulky sacred augmentations grafted into his frame, he couldn't strap in with the usual harness. Instead, he anchored himself using his servo-limbs, clamping onto reinforced struts welded into the bulkhead.
Fortunately, the flight was smooth. The anti-grav engines rumbled as they transitioned from hover to forward thrust, guiding the craft through the dark, toxic winds of the Underhive. Outside, corrosive mists curled like spectral claws against the armored plating, as the shuttle carved a path northward toward the coordinates where the buried STC was said to rest.
As the transport streaked through the gloom, Vick observed the Thunderborns with clinical fascination.
His optical augments flickered, data scrolling across his retinal HUD in an ever-updating cascade. He scanned biosignature profiles, thermal regulation nodes, integrated auspex arrays, and modular weapon systems.
Each line of sacred code confirmed what Vick already knew: these were not warriors, but living arsenals.
The Thunderborns shifted, discomfort clear even through their visors and impassive Power Armor. Few warriors appreciated the unfiltered scrutiny of a Magos of the Cult Mechanicus.
"Is the Thunderborn Pattern derived from an STC?" Vick asked without preamble or blink.
Vick paused in contemplation. Cogitators whirred in silent calculation. Scenarios, probabilities, and risk schemas scrolled through his mind in cold procession before he offered a considered reply.
"That would depend upon the classification of the STC fragment in question. Some are schematic archives, others autonomous constructs, or sealed machines of Archeotech design. Certain higher-tier STCs may include self-defense protocols."
He left unspoken the darker possibilities: STCs that had gained a semblance of sentience, corrupted by warp energies or machine errors, rogue AIs locked in steel vaults, still building weapons for wars long ended. Or worse, STCs that hadlearnedtoevolveanddefend themselveslike predators guarding their own existence.
"But even setting that aside," Vick added, his tone sharpening, "this kind of dig should not be taken lightly. When the Mechanicus excavates a suspected STC site, it is a full-scale operation. Survey teams. Secured perimeters. Liturgical rites. Structural reinforcements. Every inch scanned before the first servo-spade is lowered."
"Mm," Qin Mo nodded, clearly uninterested in the actual answer.
Vick realized the question had only been asked for show, Qin Mo had no intention of acting on his advice.
But Vick's own interest was more than scientific. This mission could grant him access to forbidden knowledge, possibly even secrets tied to the so-called Angel of Creation. If Qin Mo perished during the excavation, the truth might die with him. That was intolerable. Get full chapters from 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢·𝗇𝗲𝘵
So Vick spoke again, this time more seriously: "I recommend caution. Establish a forward encampment. Survey the site thoroughly. Any serious Mechanicus excavation would proceed this way."
Qin Mo said nothing. Eyes closed, he leaned against the bulkhead, resting. Or at least pretending to.
The transport soon arrived over the dig site.
As the vessel transitioned to hover mode, the ramp dropped. Qin Mo and the Thunderborns leapt out without hesitation, their armor amplifiers hissing with each impact on the reinforced ferrocrete.
Vick descended more gracefully. Beneath his crimson robes, retro-thrusters burned as part of a custom hover-rig integrated into his augmetics, a signature Mechanicus modification. Jets of white flame licked the ground, the scent of scorched dust filling the air as he touched down with mechanical precision.
Once all five had landed, Vick immediately began scanning the area. Before him, he saw a tunnel leading down into the dark earth.
He attempted to offer additional procedural recommendations, citing Adeptus Mechanicus excavation protocols, but Qin Mo cut him off by simply walking directly into the tunnel.
The Thunderborns closed ranks and surrounded him, forming a diamond formation as they descended.
"Activate gravity shields," Qin Mo ordered the point Thunderborn.
Vick tilted his head.Gravity shields?He'd never heard of such a system, but he could infer roughly their function from the name.
He turned his attention to the lead Thunderborn, watching intently.
The Thunderborn did nothing obvious, just kept a five-meter lead while continuing forward.
But Vick's sensors flared. The Thunderborn's energy signature distorted, and the tunnel walls around him seemed to warp slightly, as though space itself bent inwards.
Hsssst… Vick narrowed his optics. This is more than just personal shielding… This was weaponized gravity itself.
The squad advanced deeper into the sub-levels. When they were just forty meters from the next bend, a ceiling panel exploded, a concealed defense turret dropped from the ceiling, upside-down, and opened fire immediately.
The turret's shells, autocannon-class, roared down the tunnel toward the lead Thunderborn.
In a flash, the Thunderborn's shoulder-mounted plasma cannons activated and destroyed the turret with a pinpoint blast.
Meanwhile, the incoming shells never exploded. As they entered the field around the Thunderborn, they crumpled mid-air, crushed by invisible force, and dropped harmlessly to the ground.
Vick stared, shocked. He had always known the Thunderborns wore wondrous wargear, but this, this was new. He hadn't expected such powerful personalized gravitational displacement field.
And yet the principle behind it was simple. Vick quickly deduced that the shield created a local gravity distortion, compressing incoming projectiles into inert scrap.
The turret failed to slow them. The Thunderborn resumed his march, unfazed. The rest followed behind, always maintaining the five-meter distance.
As they rounded the corner, they saw it.
At the end of the tunnel was a chamber, walls lined with blackstone alloy. In the center hovered a small white sphere, no larger than a human hand.
"We should proceed with caution," Vick warned. He had assisted with STC recoveries before, and this setup, blatant, unguarded, and too perfect, reeked of danger.
The moment he spoke, the path leading into the chamber collapsed. The ground retracted to either side.
At first, Vick assumed it was just a pit, maybe a minor obstruction. But then something rose from the darkness.
It was massive. Towering. Not a living creature, but a machine, an ancient war-automaton from humanity's forgotten past.
Long ago, in a mythic era known only as the Dark Age of Technology, humanity reached incredible technological heights. They created powerful artificial intelligences, machines that could think, act, and wage war on their behalf. These AIs were called the Men of Iron, forged by earlier human castes known as the Men of Stone, who themselves served the godlike Men of Gold, humanity's first genetically enhanced rulers.
The Men of Iron were more than just tools. They were soldiers, workers, thinkers, mechanical minds built to explore the stars and protect human civilization.
But something went terribly wrong.
No records survive ofwhy, only that they rebelled. Entire solar systems burned as the Iron Men waged war against their creators. The resulting devastation shattered humanity's golden age and plunged civilization into techno-barbarism, leading to the Age of Strife.
Since then, artificial intelligence has been utterly forbidden. The Adeptus Mechanicus tolerates only the machine-spirit, limited and constrained, never sentient.
Over five meters tall, its frame bore the unmistakable marks of Dark Age forge-work. Its alloyed armor was gunmetal with inlaid neural-circuit lattices. Both arms outfitted with unknown integrated weaponry. Its half-dome head rested not atop its neck but on its right shoulder, its twin eye-sockets glowing with baleful red light.
There was no intention for it to look around. It didn't need to.
This was not a sentinel, it was a brute automaton, designed to march forward, absorb damage, and incinerate anything that entered its limited field of vision.
The lead Thunderborn acted instantly, his shoulder plasma cannon discharged a searing blast. It hit center-mass. The result? A char mark on the Iron Man's alloyed torso.
Then the Iron Man retaliated.
A white-hot beam lanced from its right arm, striking the Thunderborn square in the abdomen. The grav-shield failed to fully disperse the hit. The beam pierced the reactor-core embedded in the Thunderborn's chest, melting ceramite, liquifying bionics, and causing molten adamantium to leak from the wound.
Vick, standing next to Qin Mo, watched in awe, the Thunderborn was still standing.
Something was crawling inside the wound, self-repair protocols were activating. The compact fusion reactor and skeletal infrastructure were already regenerating.
"Blow it up," Qin Mo said calmly. He handed Vick a detonation charge and remote trigger.
"If you destroy it, I'll tell you everything you want to know about the Angel of Creation. If you die, I'll pass the message to your fellow pilgrim, Sevin, aide to the Magos Dominus of Forge World Agripinaa."
Vick didn't hesitate. He grabbed the bomb and the trigger.
"Tell Sevin, Agripinaa sector, Sub-Prelate Serven, he'll understand!"
"For the Omnissiah!" he bellowed, charging forward.
The Thunderborn disengaged his gravity shield to allow Vick to pass.
Vick sprinted past, closing the distance to the Iron Man, and slammed the trigger.
The Iron Man remained upright, but its systems had powered down. Its upper torso slumped, lifeless.
Vick stared. Then looked at the bomb in his hand. Then turned to Qin Mo.
His optics glowed with fury. "…This was a test."
"Yes," Qin Mo nodded, not bothering to deny it. "I just wanted to see how far you'd go for the truth."
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